


Abyss

by AuriKitty



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Changelings, F/M, M/M, Porn, Sparring, Tieflings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29067696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuriKitty/pseuds/AuriKitty
Relationships: Adriel - Relationship, Adriel/Jezebel, Bastian - Relationship, Bastian/Leucius, Leucius - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2
Collections: Sin Bin DnD





	Abyss

Royal Dysgarthian dirt tastes sour, but it is a recurring gritty bitterness on his taste buds.

His training is rough as his body scrapes against the conjoined grassy pavement of the Royal Training Grounds; bitter, as his sharp canines clamp protectively against the inside of his mouth and the metallic taste of copper drips on his tongue; and as his steadily growing crowd of onlookers watch on - embarrassing.

It's been hours since they started, and Leu's barely able to stand from the lacerations on his arms and legs. Blood dripping into his vision, he can hardly see the eight-foot form of his father, clad in royal armor, striding toward him and wielding swords in both hands.

"You're weak, still," his father shifts his sword, Leu's blood sliding off and dripping onto the blades of grass. Shimmering, it contrasts in the summer sun. "Again."

It takes a moment longer than before Leu's able to stand, ignoring the way his body screams at him to stop. His hand shakes from the several deep lacerations on his crimson skin, but even then, he flexes his fingers, ignoring the searing pain, and grasps onto the grip of his royal scimitar.

It's the only protection he has against his father's onslaught. 

When training, he isn't allowed to wear any form of armor, other than the smallclothes he rolls out of bed with. It always comes as a message from one of the servants too scared to look him in the eye but more than willing to stare at his bare red skin.

_ It's not training if you are prepared,  _ his father always said.

When his father moves this time, sharp teeth bared and gold in his horns glinting in the sun, Leu's slower to react, barely deflecting each attack just in time, metal clanking and deflecting in a shift and dance. They move back and forth, deflecting and dodging, but his father is faster than him, cutting at the muscles of his legs, which buckle and almost bring him down to his knees. But Leu, headstrong like a golden bull, ignores the burning pain, bares his sharp teeth with a roar, and swings more furiously.

But his attacks no longer have power in them. He's tired, body begging him to stop, to use the healers that are at the base of the ring, but he knows, even if he caves, drops his weapons, his father will cut him down where he stands. 

His sloppy movements only fuel the disdain in his father’s eyes. He hates when his father looks at him.

“Come on, boy. Hit me,” his father comes at him again, and Leu’s able to deflect one, but he’s not fast enough to dodge the other. It slices into his side, and he lets out a sound that’s an amalgamation of a gasp and a scream. Woozy from blood loss and the sudden onset, Leu stumbles away, hand gripping his side as thick blood weeps through fingers and drips on the pavement. 

Tears gather in his eyes, pearly whites tainted with crimson, but still, the Prince holds his head up. His vision is hazy as he spits the blood and drool gathering in his mouth. His clothes are wet and warm. 

His father looks on at him, sneering as he tosses one blade to the side. “You’ll go down swiftly again.” 

Leu raises his blade, and even though the form of his father blurs and he feels himself falling, he stands. With how quick his father comes to him, it’s over.

His blade is shifted out of the way, and before Leu's able to react, his father’s fist punches him with enough force to send him flying. The tiefling rolls and bounces across the pavement, like a goddamn ragdoll, and hits the wall across the yard with a heavy  _ boom _ . Leu wheezes as his body caves into the concrete, bits, and pieces of the broken rubble falling over his head. Dust waves overhead, and there's a chorus of shuffling as the healers and his onlookers collectively notice that the Prince isn't moving.

At some point, his body stops registering the pain, just the sight of the blue sky, eyes searching past the clouds for some sort of redemption.

Somewhere, he hears the garbled and distorted voice of his father, deep with contempt. "You'll never be fit to take my place."

The tiefling prince feels his heart seize, and he slips into the abyss.

* * *

It takes him over a week to start breathing normally again, healers coming in and out of his room like a revolving door. By his  _ special  _ request, some scars are to stay. Despite many of the healers telling him that the course of action is inadvisable, he ignores them. His father’s voice is always there, advising them that he needs to be reminded of his loss and that there is no way that he can be a king without a few scars. 

The second week, he’s conscious at the very least, healers swapping out with scholars, checking to ensure he remembers his teachings and his name. His favorite teacher, Ren, complains extensively to his mother, but she's nothing more than a husk, a trophy wife and a baby maker for his father. The thirty-four other siblings are proof of that.

His family isn't close by any means, and he rarely sees any of his siblings within palace walls. To him, they are more people who interact with each other because they need to, not because there's any bond or anything like that. His father's attention is focused on his first four children, his brothers that are in front of him to take the throne. 

Father's favorite, the Crown Prince Arichar, is the only one that shadowed him, learning his duties and becoming as diplomatic as he is. Despite his father being aggressive as it came to his children, his methods in politics and navigating drama is unmatched. It didn't matter though - Leu isn't getting anywhere close to things like that, no matter how many parties he's forced to attend.

It’s by the third week that he’s back to normal, walking around his room as if he hadn’t been out for almost a month. He stands in front of a golden mirror as he unravels the bloodied wraps from his arms and hands. They fall to a rising heap on the floor. 

There isn’t much that he remembers, but the scars tell enough of a story. Jagged lines still pink on his red skin, he’s slipping on a white tunic, a few buttons undone to show the saw-edged gold embedded in his collarbone. With his undercut retouched by his barber, and he’s pulling his hair up. On the outside, he looks just like he did three weeks ago. Insides are still a little fucked up, but at least he’s moving.

Thankfully, the most brutal of his father's training only occurs once every few months, and for most of those days, he isn’t even home. Sticking to the streets with his friend Adriel is what he does on most days whenever he isn't visiting the brothel or deep into some sort of teaching. Escaping the royal life, if only for a moment, is worth it. 

Leu hears the low huff from his balcony, and even though he knows who it is, he turns his head and looks behind him at his bedroom's windows. The wind blows the sheer curtains back and forth, and he catches a hint of the purple hair before he sees Adriel step through. 

Like many nights before, the Changeling strides with a swagger and confidence, giving a "Yo" and a gloved two-finger salute. He's wearing his typical black leather armor, strapped up to the teeth, so he suspects that he had a job or three in the city. 

Leu doesn't it find his place to ask, and Adriel doesn't bother to tell. It's better that way anyway.

"Ri," Leu sings his name as he buttons up to the third button. "Long time no see." He turns around about to speak, but Adri beats him to the punch, his pink eyes trained on the floor.

"You," Those rose quartz eyes flick back to him, worry and a smidge of protective anger behind them. "Are you okay?" 

Leu doesn't miss how Adriel's hidden blade clicks in place under his wrist. 

He shakes his head, grabbing the leather bracers that were on his dresser and snapping them on his wrist. "Pleasantries. There's a thing called manners, Adriel." 

With a scowl and a flare of his eyes, Adriel drones. "Hi, yes, how are you? My day is great. Your day is great? That's  _ s'well _ . I just climbed a twelve-story wall to get into my best friend’s room. And you wouldn't guess my surprise." He gasps dramatically and places his hand on his chest. "Bloody wraps by their feet. Them being an asshole. Blah blah blah, filler bullshit. Now, tell me what happened." 

Leu mulls over his words in his head, the silence visibly irritating his friend. As he turned and drew closer to where Adriel sat, the tiefling shakes his head, avoids meeting the other's eyes, and escapes to the balcony. Adriel has an unholy ability of telling when someone's lying by looking at their face, and gods, as much as he truly wants to tell him the entire story, he didn't want someone dead because of him. 

The words on his lips are in a rush. “I just had a fight with my father. It got bad."

The response is immediate. "You did what?"

Adriel says in almost disbelief, turning and standing up in the middle of Leu's royal bedroom room, brows furrowed, lips twitching. He's known this man for his entire life, and he's seen that glint right before men and women mysteriously vanish.

Just because Leu turns a blind eye to the contracts doesn't mean that he didn't know they existed.

The tiefling turns to lean his against the bedroom balcony, loose silk shirt draping over freckled shoulders as arms hang over the marble. The cool winter moon glints off the golden notches in his red horns and skin and the jewelry that he wore. His balcony is his favorite place, the only way he can escape the pieces of his world - his reality - and look out at the city lights and the ships pulling into the harbor.

Dysgarth is a port city, the largest in the country, one of the largest on the continent. Trade flows with enough exports and imports arriving daily that it powers the economy. Under the political jargon and trade center, it is a haven for pirates, criminals, and the like. As long as they didn't make a scene or caused too much ruckus, they are allowed to live without eyes prying into their business. It isn't Dysgarth's business to figure out the world's laws.

It has its own to uphold.

He likes that about his home, loves that there's a new start for everyone here, but his eyes always search past the tallest buildings, out where he sees ships docked in the harbor - crews moving up and down the ropes, setting sails.  __ That life seemed like an adventure all on its own.

"It's nothing R-."

He's not able to finish because he's being whipped around, his tender back pressed against the cool stone. Adriel is looking at him, his usual feminine features shifting. He's seen the Changeling like this a few times before, where his face color becomes like blotches of liquid that swirl against grey skin under the pale skin, his long lashes disappear and pink eyes are nothing more than orbs of white.

"Don't tell me it's nothing, Leu," Adriel growls out. "Last time, you had what? You-.” He holds up a hand. “Five. You had  _ five _ healers.  _ Five _ . Making sure you didn't pass your sorry ass to another plane, and you're telling me it's fine?"

"Adriel," Leu murmurs, but he's cut off again.

Adriel moves his hands off of him, and raises one to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Don't 'Adriel' me, Leucius." 

Leu starts again, "Adriel," he continues only when he finally sees his friend look at him. Being so close, he can feel the tension bleeding off of him in waves. "I don't need a protective friend right now."

Just like that, the tension is gone, his face is slowly shifting back into place, and he's staring back at his friend's face claim. Adriel combs his fingers through his curly lilac hair, breathes out a shaky breath.

"Alright, alright." Adriel raises his hands in defeat."Sorry, too far, I get it." It takes him a moment. "What do you need?"

Leu doesn't even think about it, because gods, it's been a really shitty month. "I need to get fucked senseless."

* * *

There are quite a few brothels in Dysgarth. Often seen as a hidden luxury in other cities, here it is proudly displayed across town. Some are more elaborate than others, with high walls and vaulted ceilings, politicians, visitors, and nobility often frequenting their walls. For Dysgarthian royalty, however, there is a brothel specifically for them and their important company - the Votre Majeste.

With architecture that rivaled even the royal palace, Votre Majeste is a silent force in the city, overreaching several buildings in the town. In the front, large arches with vines and various foliage wrapped around marble columns trimmed with gold. At the top of the granite steps, a seal with a crown above the initials VM is golden-plated in the ground, engraved in the center of the walkway.

Every time they came here, Adriel whistled, and today is no different. Placing his hand on his hips, he looks up at the building from the bottom steps, then over at Leu with a lazy grin.

"This place is gonna be mine one day," he says, and Leu laughs, rolling his eyes. “What? I’m serious. I’m going to spread my legs once or twice, get a nice spouse and settle down. I can’t be a criminal forever.”

They walk through a red-lit room with vaulted ceilings and slate waterfall fountains lining the stone walls into a pool haloed by an even darker red. Past the lobby, where dancers roll and grind their bodies on the pole, is the main room, with plush couches and his favorite person at the front desk. 

She's a stout little elf, dark skin, long hair in twists and braids, adorned with royal insignias and hair jewelry. She wears a blazer suit with a series of golden chains going across her bare chest. At the center, where her breasts meet, a branded sigil of the Dysgarthian seal marks her chest. Her hair shifts back as she looks up at the newcomers, sharp teeth proudly on display as she grins widely.

"Prince Bartholomew, charmed," the elf says, looking over at the Prince's company. She looks over at Adriel with disdain before she smiles.

"Adriel," and Leu's eyes raise when he sees Adriel come closer to the granite desk, leaning against it. "I didn't know you knew royalty."

"Well, it  _ is _ how it goes, isn't it, Jezebel?" There's the crinkling of a wrapper before Adriel slips a pink lollipop into his mouth. Jezebel scrunches her nose, pretending not to see Adriel as his eyes drift over her form.

"Should I prepare a room for two?" She asks, waving him off dismissively and looking at the prince. Leu raises a brow between the two of them, and Adriel looks at him, and mouths 'I'll tell you later.'

"I need dick today," Leu responds. "Separate." 

Jezebel hums then nods, walking over to the row of books behind her. She drifts her fingers over each of the tomes before a noise of recognition slips past her lips and she pulls out one in particular. 

"Dick it is," she says as she comes back, placing the book down on the desk to start writing a few notes in it. "Right. I have quite a few people for you. Are you feeling dominant, submissive, or a little bit of both?"

"Submissive." He says, not entertaining to even look at the slow smirk from Adriel. 

"Limits?"

It's transactional. "The usual."

Jezebel looks up at him above the room of her silver glasses. Her lips twist. "Now you know, Barth, I can't let you in until you verbally tell me which limits you are uncomfortable with.”

Leu shifts, glances over at his friend, and then motions for him to walk away. 

“Come on,” Adri moans before pushing away and rolling his eyes. “You act like I haven’t seen you on your knees drinking out of a bowl before.” 

“That was one time-.”

His friend coos and then “Me- _ ow. _ "Adriel smirks, and to his glare, he two-finger salutes, moving away from the counter and walking off. 

Leu quickly mutters out his hard limits - no shit, no piss, and being careful of his back since it is the only thing that the healers didn't completely fix. Sure, it's scraped and rubbed raw, ripped from getting thrown back on the concrete repeatedly, but hey, his ass still worked. 

“Well,” Jezebel hums, tapping her fingers against her lips and then pointing her pen at him in her other hand. “I got just the boy. Name’s Bastian. I’ve received nothing but...uh, compliments from him. Plus he’s an absolute stud. Top, bottom, whatever you prefer.” 

"Good enough," Leu nods, waving his hand. “Bring him to my room. Adriel,” He looks at his friend who raises a brow when he points at him. “Choose someone you want.”

He's quick to shark his head.“Nah. Not my type of scene you know.”

“ _ Right _ ," Leu calls out as he walks up the staircase to the rooms. "You’re too busy pining after that rogue.” Even at the top of the steps, he hears Adriel scoff.

Finding the first open room, Leu walks in and despite him, knowing each of these rooms' designs, it still amazes him every time. It's a change from the red room he came from with the large room lit by a stone fireplace in the angled corner. Votre Majeste offered high-quality furnishings with small, but opulent, expensive detailing throughout the room.

At the far end of the room, through paneled one-way glass, he's greeted by the sights of rocky mountains that served as passage and the city's natural skyline. To the right of him is an entire wall made of a wide, wooden backboard that led to the two-tiered stage of the California King bed. Sunburst mirrors framed the side with complimentary lube and condoms near each of the wooden end tables. Lined up on the left is a wooden wall, toys of every size and kind, bondage restraints, and a golden guarantee said toys were new and unused. 

The room screams extravagant, expensive, decadence, and sex.

Leu starts unbuttoning his shirt, but his deft fingers pause when he hears the door open behind him. His ears twitch as a sultry, masculine voice speaks.

"Your Highness," It's not a voice that he recognized, but thoroughly sounds like melted chocolate to his ears. Leu's fingers play with the buttons, only to see and feel hands come around his sides, lips pressed against his ear. He shudders.

"Let me help you take that off." The voice murmurs as gloved hands start to slip the buttons through the slits. The man's lips gently press against the skin of his neck, and Leu hitches his breath at the feeling of teeth dragging itself on his skin.

He's barely able to focus when he speaks against him, feeling the leather gloves against his chest, slipping his shirt off his shoulders. It falls to the floor, and a warm, toned chest is pressing up against him. 

"Ah," the voice says again, fingers now moving down the front of his stomach. "Do you want me to be rough, or gentle?"

Leu feels his lips twitch before turning around and wrapping his arms around the other's neck. He's not that much taller than him, maybe a head or so, dark blue hair curling around his face. They're two red metallic horns close to his head, but it doesn't compare to the red eyes that seemed so intent on looking at him. A blue earring dangles from his left ear.

Leu's breath catches in his throat.  _ Oh, hello.  _ The tiefling, who he assumes is Bastian's, drops to his lips, and then looks back up at him, moving a hand down to squeeze at his ass. 

It's when he notices that he's still waiting on an answer. "Sir?"

Manners, at the least.

"I want you to stop talking," Leu says, sliding his fingers in his hair, tightening his grip, and pulling him into a deep kiss. In between the two tieflings, that kiss sets it off. At first, it's searching, as if trying to find the right tempo to kiss at, but then it's rough, fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him closer, a mix of lips, teeth, and tongue. "Rough."

Leu's drinking in every press and pull that he gives him, and he reaches down to claw at the other's pale skin. A surprised noise leaves his lips when Bastian picks him up like he weighs nothing, walking over to the bed that is in the middle of the room. Leu falls out of his arms with a huff as he looks up at Bastian wearing nothing but a golden belt and draping that covers his tenting cock.

The tiefling looks down at him with an expression that mirrors...amusement? 

"Bad day?" He says, and Leu narrows his eyes. 

"I thought I said stop talking." 

Bastian smiles, pressing his knee against the edge of the bed as he leans over him slowly. Leu's breath catches again, heart throbbing in his chest as this man moves his hand down his pants and squeezes his hardening length. A repressed groan leaves his lips.

"And what do I call you?" He questions.

Leu relaxes in the bed, bringing one hand above his head, gripping at the satin covers that are cool against his back. 

"Call me your Prince." He brings his other hand to curl his finger towards the tiefling, and those soft, god they are so soft, lips are back on him again. They're everywhere, on his lips, on his neck, his nipples, sliding down the curves of his abs. He doesn't realize he's breathing as hard as he is, watching Bastian unbuckle his pants with a skill that -- 

_ Oh _ .

"Fuck," the curse comes from Leu's lips as his cock is completely swallowed by a warm mouth. His eyes roll back and his toes curl, and he's pressing his head back into the covers. "Yes." He reaches down, curling his fingers in the blue tresses, knees instinctively moving inward and moaning. He's swallowed over and over again, down to the back of Bastian's throat who wastes no time finding the small spots of his thighs that made him keen and moan louder.

He dares himself to look down, golden eyes catching on Bastian's own as he drags his mouth back, sucking at the tip. Leu pants, closing his eyes again, slowly rocking his hips up into his mouth, trying to get deeper down into his throat. Bastian absolutely lets him, red eyes looking up at him as he brings Leu closer and closer to climax.

And just as he’s about to cum, Bastian pulls away, a strand of saliva and pre hanging on his lips.

“Wha-” he didn’t even get the chance to say anything because Bastian is turning him over, moving his hands to his hips. He pulls him back and presses a hand against his shoulders, forcing him down on the bed. Leu huffs, bracing on his elbows and looking over his shoulder. “Careful Bas-.”

A hand comes down hard on his ass, a loud, almost reverberating smack echoing in the room, the sound that comes out of him is close to a strangled, surprised moan, and he  _ trembles _ . His hips instinctively raise up, and he's hit again, an addicting burn on his skin. The next hit has him biting down into sheets, body moving only briefly to get away from the pain, another moaned groan makes his dick pulse and weep.

"Do you want it?"

Leu's barely able to focus enough to respond, and the next hit comes again, harder. A muffled pleasured scream leaves his lips, thighs, and arms trembling as he tries to keep himself up. He quickly nods, teeth still ripping into the sheet, muffling his begs and pleas.

"That's not going to work for me, Prince." A cap opens behind him, and he feels the pouring of something cold and wet on his skin. He hears the bottle thud and slides against the hardwood floor. "Use your words."

Leu raises his hips again, surprised when he feels the Bastian's length. Shivering, he raises his hips, sliding him in between the globes of his ass. Panting, he's barely able to focus, only working his hips back and grinding against him - he isn't big by any means, but god, the curve on his cock when he has to raise his hips just to get up the tip - sinful.

"Wow," Bastian murmurs from behind him, "the Prince  _ is _ a cockslut," he murmurs, hand moving to the small of his back, lube easing every sinful slide off his cock. 

Leu nods and then widens his legs slightly. The movement ears him another hit. God, he's going to bruise in the morning. "Words."

He didn't want to think.

"Please," His body's hot, throbbing, parting his legs with the need to present himself. "Fuck me."

Bastian lets out a soft chuckle behind him. "There you go." He hastily preps him, his slender fingers curling and scissoring enough to stretch him out, and then, he hears the condom wrapper open. When he finally sinks into him, Leu lets out another sob.

He's hot, tight, swallowing him as though it is strictly designed for that purpose. Bastian's fingers dig into the red, hot skin of his ass, and with a soft coo of praise from his lips, he slams in down to the base. Leu doesn't have the chance to adjust because he's moving, dragging out mewls and nods of complete bliss and pleasure from being filled. 

Bastian is relentless, keeping the pace, rocking the bed and Leu's body as he drives him over every single goddamn plane of existence. His body is trembling, hands gripping and pulling the sheets from the corners. They're bunched in his hand as his mind goes blank. 

The first time he feels that gloved hand touch his cock, he's cumming with a shout, the pleasure white hot and near blinding, and at the steady, brutal pace of Bastian's hips, he lets out another loud, muffled scream.

He cums again at the feeling of Bastian's hand coming down on his already bruised ass. 

The tiefling slows down, giving him enough time to breathe, coughing as he sucks in the air he didn't know he needed.

Leu's words are sloppy, slurred, and barely understandable.

Somehow he hears "You can come again, can't you?"

He doesn't have the time to shake his head before the wind is knocked out at the next rough punch of his Bastian's hips, a choke leaving his lips. At the near animalistic pace, his back arches, a thin layer of sweat sliding down his back and pooling at dimples above his ass. Just as soon as he pulls out, Bastian is slamming his hips back in, and his gold eyes roll close as his sharp teeth rip into the sheets.

Leu's high keening moans and pleas are muffled on the bed he's on his hands and knees in, near sobs coming out of his mouth as he cums against for the third time that night. His body trembles, tears coming out of his eyes from the pure overstimulation, begging in the sheets for him to slow down, but needing him to keep going.

A hand gripping his messy brown hair with enough force to rip him away from the pillows he was biting down into and the wet sheets underneath him. With a haze, he's barely able to focus on what is coming out of his mouth. God,  _ damn _ does he try.

"You know better than that," comes the heavy heady voice from behind him. "Louder, my Prince."

* * *

He loses track of time, of how long Bas buries himself in his body over and over, keeping the position and making him sore and weak enough that his body slumps on the bed afterward. He doesn't know how long he sleeps, content to stay there for the rest of the night. Then again, it's not like he's moving anywhere soon.

He half-expected to wake up alone, but When he wakes up a third time, Bas is there, sitting up in the bed, eyes trained on the skyline. The morning sun barely peeks over the window, bathing him in a warm light. For a moment, he stares at him as the halo slid over his features and the bare chest. 

Leu shifts, hand moving to gloved hand closest to him. The movement catches Bas's eye, and he chuckles and smiles. 

"Good morning. You slept all evening." Leu still holds his hand, squeezing. "You're welcome," Bas says and then looks back out towards the mountain range. He brings a leg up so he can rest his arm against his knee. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

He wishes that he could talk, or push himself up, but he's more comfortable staying put and not speak.

"Not being able to talk must be inconvenient."

Leu flips him off, a scowl on his lips. The blue-haired tiefling laughs and tilts his head back. 

And he doesn't know why - gods, he doesn't know  _ why -  _ he thinks a whore he spent the night with looks beautiful when he laughs, but he does.

_ Gods, he does. _


End file.
